


Little G God

by deltachye



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: One Shot, Other, Pining, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-06-27 15:07:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19793428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deltachye/pseuds/deltachye
Summary: [reader x thor]even little-g-gods can develop attachment to us silly little humans.[DW19]





	Little G God

For somebody so pursuant of academics and empirical study, you should’ve really seen this coming.

Exhibit A. Thor is a celestial being. A literal god from what was once thought to be mythology from those crazy old Norse folks. You are a human being from planet Earth. Very regular schmegular, popped out of your momma after your dada donated some genetic material. Should Little-g-god care enough to hang out with Stupid Human enough to go _shopping_? Probably not. But he goes shopping with you. Not even like, “this is going to save the world!” kind of activity. Thor literally just spends some of his free time leisurely walking around Sephora with you, avidly watching with bright blue eyes as you swatch glittery shadows and highlighter on the back of your hand. He doesn’t mind if you apply testers on him, either. It’s beyond amusing to dust pretty pink blushes and rosy red lipsticks on this hulking man who has to bend over so you can reach without straining. And, even though he’s literally not from here, he’s got bona fide American currency and pays for your purchases. He even fights you at the register. It’s not like you can win against him, and the cashier knows it too, not even bothering to acknowledge you even though they’re your purchases. You never blame them; freakin’ _Thor_ is standing beside you, so who’d notice you? Although you feel bad about it, it’s kind of nice to splurge. He says that if it makes you happy, then he’s happy. Somehow, that did not ring any bells in your empty empty skull.

Exhibit B. He also accompanies you to the gym. Now, Thor Odinson does not dare touch any of the puny human’s equipment, because everybody knows damn well he could look at it funny and it’d fall apart. He could probably bicep curl the entire weight rack without breaking a sweat. But he gladly acts like your personal hype-man. He spots you, barking encouragements, probably the way he would have at troops back in Asgard. _“Here, here!”_ and _“Excellent!_ … weird old-timey stuff like that. It’s hilarious. If there were a passerby who lived under a rock and somehow didn’t know about the Avengers shit, Thor might just seem like your super buff blond trainer that talks a bit funny. Once, you made an off-hand comment about how you wished your body looked different, and how it never seemed to change no matter what you did. It sent him into a spiral. He didn’t give you the stupid “you’re perfect just the way you are” spiel you scrolled past on Instagram every day. Instead, he listed off with memorized bullet-points that you were _strong_ , and shape does not matter when a warrior’s spirit shines brightly as stars in the sky. Something like that. It’d been cute. In the moment, all you could do was stand there and nod, an earbud hanging out of your ear stupidly. Your ponytail bobbed as you thanked him. You didn’t stop to wonder if he’d say that kind of earnest compliment to just anybody.

Exhibit C. On the laziest days, he’ll ring the doorbell to your humble apartment and request to watch “The Superb Netflixes” with you. You didn’t think a world-renowned hero like him would be into rom-coms, or Korean dramas, but he eats it _up_. He cries like a baby, too. You now keep a box of tissues on your coffee table, just for Thor. But the thing is, he doesn’t even like the good, well-written movies. He likes those stupid cheesy ones, the ones worse than Nicholas Sparks wannabes could ever make. But even though the movie is horrible, the time you get to spend with him relaxes you enough that you figure, fine, it’s not the worst experience. The first few times he would be very respectful as your friend. You can tell he’s a Mommy’s Boy by the way he treats you; he’s almost stiffly polite to you even though this is your own home. As time goes on and the universe ending threats get solved and more rom-coms get watched, he sits closer and closer to you. Finally, you tell him it’s okay to cuddle up—only if he wants, though. He eagerly takes you up on it. He’s ripped, but comfortable to curl up against. His body radiates unnaturally warm heat, so you don’t even need to pull up one of your cheap-ass TJ Maxx comforters. It always puts you in a haze. One night, you accidentally fall into a deep sleep, and wake up very suddenly when you realize you’ve wrapped your legs around his and hugged your arms tight around him. You feel like you’ve committed an offense or something and apologize. You push him away.

But you should’ve realized it takes two to gravitate that close in the first place.

It’s a while until he comes back around again. You had resolved yourself to never seeing him again, having to just cherish the memories you had with him. It honestly shocks you when you see him through your peep-hole, standing there meekly in his hoodie and jeans. (You’ve never actually seen him in that weird Asgardian get-up outside of the TV; maybe he thinks you’ll laugh at him too hard.) You open the door a little too excitedly and stub your toe, but bite down the pain.

This is the first time Thor’s asked you to come with him rather than tag along with your daily activity. You’re a bit hesitant to follow. The whole insecurity about being from two vastly different worlds hits again. Are you worthy? Shouldn’t there be some other little-g-goddess waiting for him or something? You should’ve Googled Thor myths in the meantime to study. But he suddenly grabs your hand and raises one quizzical eyebrow.

_Come with me?_

You muster the courage to do so.

Even though it’s very late, there’s a select few who are still out and about. The night owls roam the city streets, making it more comfortable to be on. It’s slower than the day rush, so the noises of cars and passerby becomes a white noise rather than a disturbance. It’s your background music as you walk with Thor. Considerate, he slows his stride so that you aren’t left in the dust. Even though you’ve gotten this far, you’re still too nervous to ask him where you’re going. You can only just follow.

You didn’t realize he was taking you for a hike. You’re in some sandals you hastily slipped on, and the midnight air starts to nip as the wind picks up. Without a moment’s hesitation, Thor shrugs off his outer coat and plops it around your shoulders. It’s heavy and huge, but the weight is overwhelmingly warm. You’re suddenly reminded of what it’s like when he beams at you. It’s like the sun blazing trails across the sky.

You struggle along for another little while until he either pities you or gets tired of how slow you are. You have to admit, getting piggybacked by the God of Thunder is pretty bucket list worthy. Your arms dangle loosely around his broad neck, and every time you breathe you smell the earthiness of oak. His arms are secure under your legs, and your feet dangle along peacefully. It reminds you of the good old days. If you close your eyes, you might fall asleep. You nestle your chin into the crook of his shoulder and let him carry you wordlessly.

The both of you finally reach the summit of the hill. He lets you down and then squints up at the sky, scanning it like he’s reading a very large map. He turns in circles, clearly looking for something very specific. This high up, the city’s light pollution dies away, and you can actually see the stars. Even the faint glow of the Milky Way is visible. It’s a breathtaking view. You don’t think you’ve ever actually taken the time to just look up, mindless, and admire.

“There!”

It’s the first thing he’s said since arriving uninvited and points upwards. You follow with your eyes, struggling to pinpoint what it is he’s trying to show you.

“What?”

“There’s a star out there, in the galaxy… er, I forget. But it’s nice out there. I named it after you.”

“You… you named a star after me?”

You stand there in this ridiculously oversized hoodie that goes to your knees and positively gape at him like a child. There is no way. He’s Thor Odinson, the God of Thunder, an Avenger, a Hero, a little-g-god—you’re just… you. You’re not special. The most power you’ve got is over the whiny stray cat in your alleyway that you fed once.

“Yes,” he exclaims, matter-of-factly. “Now you’ll _have_ to believe that you are a star!”

He’s very proud of himself, even going so far as to put his hands on his hips as he smiles up to [Name].

“It sometimes gets lonely,” he continues, more quietly now. “There’s no Flicks of the Net out there; can you believe it? But we can both look at this same star together, no matter the distance. Right?”

It’s hard to see his expression in the dark, but you can imagine it—that earnest, big oafy grin that lifts your spirits no matter what’s happened. You still can’t believe it, but you think it makes sense now.

You had it backwards. Yeah, he’s Thor Odinson, little-g-god. But he’s a teddy bear of a guy, a lover of love—and you? You’re not just ordinary. You’re a star.

The high of your happiness gives you the courage to stretch all the way up to your tippy-toes and kiss him; even then, you can only manage to graze the side of his prickly jaw. But you feel the grin explode and he grabs you, lifting you easily. He plants a kiss on your forehead first, waiting for permission like the gentleman he is; when you laugh and kiss him, tentatively, he returns it tenfold. It’s what he does. He inspires belief. Your heart swells as the two of you embrace under starlight. It’s incredibly warm under the twinkling night sky.

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr: https://deltachye.tumblr.com/


End file.
